


Wonder

by compos_dementis



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-03
Updated: 2010-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-07 00:17:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compos_dementis/pseuds/compos_dementis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America struggles to find his place as a pre-Revolution colony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wonder

As a child, Alfred Jones had loved a good challenge.

 

He was bright and he knew it; even if Arthur didn’t tell him that as often as he used to, Alfred just knew. As a boy, living in the warm scone-smell of England’s house (the scent of Earl Grey and fresh biscuits burned around the edges still lingering in his senses), he would try to keep himself occupied by building wooden models, or taking them apart to create something new and freshly-painted from their remains.

 

(You’re such a brilliant boy.)

 

The new and functional toy would bring a smile to his face like no other, created anew from the carcass of broken playthings.

 

(My bright little Alfred. The heat of tea and blankets as fireplaces could never make him feel as warm as those words.)

 

He would be lying if he said he didn’t miss it already.

 

Alfred like to try and ignore that lingering feeling pulling at his heartstrings until it faded into the dull throb of his own heartbeat, and then he would feel very small, and so very alone, because at least England had been familiar. His accent hadn’t even faded yet. Arthur had loved him and cared for him and…

 

He missed it. God, he missed it. But his Puritans, his Separatists, they needed their freedom too, and he felt the need for their independence burning inside of him. Maybe he would be better off here, alone. Well, not alone… he had his few people, didn’t he? His very, very few.

 

(And so many Thomases.)

 

But it was new. Startlingly, shockingly new.

 

The trees were different, the landscape. The people, such a peculiar people, speaking in tongues he didn’t understand, wearing strange jewelry and not enough clothing, and it was frightening to think about staying here.

 

But he’d come this far. England had faith in him, and that drove him to hold steady and keep his people, his natives, happy. He couldn’t possibly back out now.

 

(Well, maybe he could ask for some help or something. When tensions died down.)

 

The rain was colder here, and the water was salty and dirty when he drank it. Not like he’d imagined his New World to be. He simply wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his coat and watched his reflection in the water ripple whenever hit by a raindrop.

 

“The Puritans are saying that France is on his way from the north,” a colonist spoke up from behind him. Alfred sighed and scrubbed a hand over his young face. Another bloody Thomas, no doubt. “He should arrive here in a few weeks’ time.”

 

“Does he want land?” Alfred asked, but knew the second he said it that it was pointless. Of course he did. France wouldn’t stop until he had the whole planet at his ankles. But he had to keep it business. Don’t be scared. Be more like Arthur.

 

“I dunno,” Thomas said. “But he’s been flirting with the natives. Learning their language, and participating in their rituals… Communicating. And trying to convert them to Catholicism.”

 

Alfred turned and faced him. This Thomas was younger than he’d imagined. His powdered wig gave him a kind of baby face, with eyes wide, face rounded, with an aristocratic look on top of that. A rich brat. At least, richer than some of the other travelers that had come here.

 

“Bleeding Catholics.”

 

With bitterness in his heart, he stormed away and past the half-built homes, the numerous subsistence crops, the brackish water churning in cloudy streams.

 

(Indian ground, originally. Finders keepers.)

 

Barely moved in, and already that prick France was trying to sway his natives, horning in on his land. No doubt Arthur would have a conniption when he found out.

 

(Maybe he should ask for help.)

 

Ridiculous.

 

_'How could England ever think I could grow up to be wonderful?_'

 

_'I'm just a stupid kid_.'


End file.
